


The Haunting of the Way Family

by thehotinpsychotic



Category: Frank Iero - Fandom, Gerard Way - Fandom, MCR - Fandom, Mikey Way - Fandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Frerard, Haunted House, M/M, death tw, ghost - Freeform, ghost au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 13:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehotinpsychotic/pseuds/thehotinpsychotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is murdered by a gang right after the breakup with his girlfriend Geri. He is stuck haunting the house. After fifty years, the Way family moves in, and Frank finds himself falling for the eldest son, Gerard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Circa 1964  
My name is Frank, and I fucking love my life. I’m dating this gorgeous bird named Geri. She’s got dark hazel eyes and golden hair that falls down her back in gentle waves. We’ve been going steady for about two months now, and things for me have just never been better.  
I finish my journal entry, tapping my pencil on the paper thoughtfully. It’s true, but it just doesn’t seem quite right. I add “I love her.” That’s what was missing. I decide that I’ll tell her tonight, at my house.  
She comes over, and we have the house to ourselves. She sits down on my sofa, straightening her circle skirt. “You wanted to talk to me?”  
“Yes,” I reply. I sit down next to her, taking her hands in mine. “Geri, I- I’ve fallen in love with you.”  
Geri yanks her hands away. She then realizes how hurt I must look, because she pats her back and apologizes,  
“Frank, this just isn’t working out. I think you’re a swell guy, but…. I don’t feel that way. I hope you understand.”  
I begin crying, out of my control. “But- but…” I move closer to her, reminding, “I love you.”  
She stands up and responds, “Well Frank, the thing about falling in love? It hurts!” With that, she leaves, and I let her. The door slams, and the entire doorframe shakes from the force.  
I lay on the couch and bawl, my chest heaving painfully. I… I’ve never lost someone in my life… never been dumped… never even had a pet die. I’ve never learnt how to be sad. Maybe that’s why it’s so horrible right now.  
I hear a knock on my door. “Geri?” I ask hopefully.  
The door is kicked open, by a hoard of young men with guns.  
I scream and leap to my feet.  
“Get on the ground!” one of them snaps.  
I slolwy descend to the ground, my heart pounding in my chest. I hold my hands behind my head, and watch as they rob my house. Noticing that none of them are watching me, I begin to army crawl towards the door. I glance over my shoulder as I crawl, almost there.  
“Hey! He’s trying to run!” one barks.  
One of the men shoot me in the head. I don’t know who did it, or why they thought it was necessary, but I die right away. I rise out of my body, to see the men all stare at my corpse in terrror.  
“Let’s scatter!” one of them yells, dropping all of the possessions he gathered and sprinting for the door.  
The rest follow, all yelling and whooping. Some are afraid, running far from my body, and others leap right over it. All I know is that they leave me there. And no one calls the cops. My parents find my body in the living room when they get home, crimson blood seeping into the hardwood floor.  
My mom falls to her knees, crying. She lifts my head, and screams at the large wound on one side. She drops it and hugs my body around my neck, sobbing,  
“Oh my poor baby. Shh, it’s okay.”  
My father just stands in the doorway, his mouth open in shock. He then drops his briefcase, and rushes to the phone dialing 911.  
“Frankie, what did you get into?” my mom weeps.  
“Mom, I’m right here,” I comfort. I reach out my hand to place it on her shoulder, but it just goes through. “Mom?” I ask. “MOM!”  
But she can’t hear me. She lays my body in her lap, petting my hair with one hand and resting her other across my stomach. My father hangs up the phone, and she shrieks,  
“Who would do this to our son!?”  
My father leans down next to her, pulling my body from her lap. He guides her out of the room with his hands on her shoulders. I follow them up the steps, to see him lie her down in her bed. He kisses her on the cheek and swears,  
“Everything will be okay. All things happen for a reason.”  
I lay down next to her, holding her hand, even though it just kind of sits in the middle of it, going through it really. I hug her, whispering,  
“I’m right here, mom. Right here.”  
She shivers, and her breath comes out in a cloud. She pulls the blanket up to her neck, and continues to shake with cold as I wrap my arms around her.  
“I’m right here, mommy,” I cry.  
The cops arrive, and my dad lets my mom watch them carry out my body. They have no leads on who did it, and, fifty years later, the crime remains unsolved.  
I now haunt this house, sort of on accident. For instance, a child will run in on a dare, and I’ll get close to them to get a better look. They’ll feel an icy prescense with them, and run out crying. Another time, when Geri came to the house, my first instinct was to ask,  
“Geri?”  
She ran out screaming. I must have become more powerful, because my mom couldn’t hear me scream when she found my body. Now Geri visits years later, and my question sends her running.  
My parents come in sometimes to sit on the couch. They’ll talk about me some, cry a lot, and then leave, resting roses on the spot where I died. The first time they did this, I took the roses, only to see them immediatley shrivel up and die. I don’t pick up the roses anymore.  
When my parents stop visiting, and a whole year goes by without me seeing them, I realize that they must have died as well.  
But I was wrong. One day, this frail little old woman walks in. She sits herself down heavily on the couch, clutching roses in her hand.  
“Frank, I remember when you were young,” she reminisces.  
It’s… it’s my mom.  
“You couldn’t believe that there were bad people in the world. And…” she starts sobbing. “Look where that got you.”  
I start crying, and I slink down the steps, gazing at my mother through the rail supporters.  
“I don’t know if you can hear me, Frankie, but I believe you can,” she says. I sit next to her on the couch, eventually moving onto her lap, just wanting to be held by her once more.  
“Your father died. Those cigarettes finally got him,” she informs. She gasps softly, putting her hand over her mouth. She cries harder, and chokes out, “I’m the only one left.”  
Goosebumps raise off her skin, and her breath again comes out into little clouds. I’m making her cold.  
“Frankie, I love you,” she weeps. She stands, and I fall through her onto the couch. I watch her place the roses down on their usual spot, and she says,  
“I just want to make sure you know that.”  
With that she leaves. I’m reduced to a sobbing mess on the floor.  
My mother visits once a week, bringing photographs each time. Not only does she talk to herself, but she talks to me. She talks about my father, too. About how different things are without me. About how much losing her only baby hurt. One week she doesn’t come. One week turns into five months, and five months into six years. That’s when I realize that my mother died as well. That’s when I realize that I’m the only one left.


	2. Chapter 2

Gerard’s P.O.V.  
“We’re here!” my dad cheers as he pulls into the driveeway of the rickety, abandoned-looking house.  
Mikey grumbles something about the house being a dump as he gets out of the car, removing his headphones.  
My mom glares at him. “No more snarky comments, Michael.”  
I follow them into the house.It’s so old that the wood creaks with every step.  
“It could use some work,” my dad suggests.  
“It could use a bulldozer,” Mikey growls.  
“Michael, you just lost your pick at first room!” my mom scolds. She lightly pushes me twoareds the stairs, encouraging, “Go ahead, Gerard.”  
I start up the steps, each one groaning loudly under my weight. As I go up, it gets progressively, and noticeably, colder. My breath comes out in clouds by the time I reach the room I want.  
Frank’s P.O.V.  
The door opens, and in walks a shuddering teenaged boy. He looks about my age and is vampiricly pale. He has raven locks that hang through his eyes, which are… the exact same color as Geri’s.  
He lets out a long sigh as he lies on the bed. A long shiver makes its way down his spine.  
“Jesus it’s cold in here,” he mutters.  
He leaves the room, rubbinghis hands up and down his arms for warmth. He then returns wearing a sweater and lays himself back onto the bed. He then does a really pecuiliar thing. He cries. He cries for some reason that I don’t know. As he sobs, he hugs his knees to his chest and rocks back and forth. He reaches into his jeans pocket, pulling out a razor blade.  
I sit next to him and watch with utter fascination. He rolls up his sleeve and presses the blade against his wrist as another long tear falls down his face. He applies pressure, and then suddenly throws the weapon across the room. He weeps harder, and then slaps himself in the face.  
“Get it together,” he whimpers to himself.  
I stroke his hair, to find a strand actually lift with my touch.I must have become more powerful.  
He jumps, and stops crying immediatley. He pats the top of his head where I had pet him. He then stands, wiping his eyes and searching for a mirror. Finding one in the attatched batrhoom, he fixes his hair. He dumps some water from the faucet into his hands and splashes it onto his face. He wipes himself off on his sleeve, and then starts down the steps.  
I follow him outside onto the porch. He takes off his sweater, tossing it onto the porch swing. He sits heavily in the swing, and I park myself on the porch steps. I really want to talk to him. I want to help him.  
I will myself to appear in front of him.  
Gerard’s P.O.V.  
I suddenly notice a boy sitting on my porch. He has dark hair, and looks pretty small. It’s hard to tell; he’s sitting down with his back to me.  
“Hey,” I greet. The boy doesn’t reply.  
“Hey, you,” I call. The boy looks around this time, still not meeting my gaze.  
I head up towards him and shake his shoulder. “Hey.”  
The boy looks at me surprised, and then says excitedly, “Hello.” He pauses thoughtfully, looks up at me, and asks, “Why are you so sad?”  
I jump in shock, never being asked anything so delicate so bluntly. “I’m not sad.”  
“Yes you are,” the boy responds. He runs his hand up my arm, grazing my faded scars. “What are those from?”  
I yank my arm away. “Strangers can’t know.”  
The boy stands, and I see that he is only about 5’3”. “My name’s Frank. We’re not strangers anymore.”  
I look into his eyes, which are a trasnparent green. “I have to go.”  
He outstretches his hand for me, but I hurry past. When I reach the door, I decide to tell him the truth. I turn, but he’s already gone.  
Frank’s P.O.V.  
I stay in the boy’s room until he returns. He yawns sleepily as he lays himself on the bed. I glance over at the alarm clock, realizing that it’s already 10:00 at night.  
He slips out of his shirt, throwing it across the room. He kicks off his pants, leaving him inb his black boxer briefs. He then rolls over, pulling the covers up to his neck.  
I prepare for another dull night when the boy suddenly flips onto his back. He trails a hand down his stoamch, removing the blanket down to his knees. He slides his hand inside of his underwear, and I see the fabric rise, descend, and rise repeatedly.  
He moans softly and closes his eys, his long lashes nearly reaching his cheekbone.  
I move over closer to him. I see his pace quicken through the thin cloth of his boxer briefs. He pants lightly, petting himself heavily. He titls his head back and lets out a low cry. He stands, waddling across the room to his dresser. I watch as he step sout of his udnerwear, using them to wipe off his crotch. He changes into a new pair of blue briefs, then returning to bed and curling up to sleep.  
The boy rises in the morning. He zooms about the room, pulling on slacks, a dress shirt, and a red tie. So, I see that the local school still has the same uniform I wore when I attended there.  
“It’s freezing,” he mumbles. He blows into his hands as he descends down the steps.  
I follow him down, and I realize in the back of my mind that with me constantly following and studying him, this kid will never get any warmer in his own house.  
He sits at the table, gulping down a glass of orange juice. He grabs a piece of taost and toussles another boy’s hair as he passes, a boy with brown hair and horn rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose.  
“Don’t!” the boy with glasses protests, shoving the other, larger, boy.  
“Michael, be nice to your brother!” their mother orders.  
“Sorry,” Michael scolws.  
I follow the boy until the sidewalk, the boudnary to how far I can walk from this house I am foreever chained to. As I follow, I notice something faintly written on his backpack. “Gerard”.  
I wiat in Gerard’s room for him to come home. I go through his possessions, leaving them sprawled across the room. He really does have a lot of neat stuff. He has these little discs that are like tiny records, and they look like, by the cases they come in, that they pllay music. He’s even an artist; I pull out quite a bit of paintings, comic pages and sketches. I come across one, that is of a wrist stretched out. Across the wrist is red paint, and a paintbrush is being dragged across it.  
Gerard needs help.  
Gerard’s P.O.V.  
When I get home, I go straight to my room to see all of my boxes unpacked. “What the… MIKEY!” I see my wrist painting on the floor, and I panic. Oh shit! What if he found out? What if he tells mom and dad?  
I clump over to Mikey’s room, shoutuing, “MIKES! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, DON’T TOUCH MY SHIT!”  
Mikey’s lying on his bed playing music off his laptop and reading a Victoria’s Secret catalouge. He sees me, blushes and sits on the adertisements. He adjusts his glasses nervously, saying, “I was never in your room.”  
“Wh-what?” I ask.  
“Gerard, I didn’t touch any of your shit!” Mikey insists. “Get out. And close my door on your way.”  
I leave, closing the door behind me and returning to my room, sensing the temperature drop as I step in. Why is it always so damn cold in here? As I begin to put away my junk, I struggle to recall unpacking my stuff, but it’s a memory I can’t bring up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment, or prompts!
> 
> Follow my writing blog- www.jordan-delyn-writes.tumblr.com  
> Follow me on Spotify- Jordan Ludwig


	3. Chapter 3

I wait for Gerard to go outside again the next day, so I can “casually run into him” and speak with him. I really want to help the kid; he sure is going through a lot of shit. When I see him throw on a military jacket I know where he’s going, so I follow him outisde and go to the end of the sidewalk, letting myself appear.  
“Hi!” I call, starting towards Gerard, who rocks backand forth on the squeaky porch swing.   
“Hey,” Gerard responds. He scooches over on the swing to allow me to sit, and I set myself down next to him. “What’s up?”  
I squint. “Um, the sky? I don’t know.”  
Gerard laughs. “No, I mean, what’s happening?”  
“We’re talking, Gerard,” I remind.   
Gerard chuckles. I can’t see what’s funny.   
“Frank, you’re such a card,” Gerard giggles.   
“Not really,” I admit.   
Gerard digs something out of his pocket. It kind of looks like a sideways wallet, but it’s made out of metal. He flips up the top part and flicks a switch, causing the screen to light up and display tiny little creatures I’ve never seen before.   
I jump in surprise, and then, pointing and the screen, ask, “What’s that?”  
Gerard gives me a strange look. “It’s a D.S.”   
I contemplate the name. “D-D.S?”  
“Yeah,” Gerard answers.   
“What’s it stand for?” I question.  
“Mmm, no one really knows,” Gerard replies. “D…. something System, I guess.”   
“Oh,” I respond quietly. Waiting for the right time, I ask, “Why are you so sad, Gerard?”  
Gerard sighs, and asnwers quietly, “I’ve… I’ve been this way for a long time now.”  
“Well, who says you have to be your whole life?” I reply.  
“I… it’s not that easy. I just can’t snap out of it. I want to get better, but….” Gerard tears up as he turns away from me.   
“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” I comfort. I hug Gerard, turning him around. Gerard digs his face into my chest as he bawls. He begins a coughing fit, and I smack him on the back to help him through it.   
“Oh my God, Frank, I’ve never even told you my name and I’m cyring all over you,” Gerard sniffles.  
“I know your name,” I reply truthfully.  
“What? I never told you,” Gerard responds.   
“Um, yeah you did,” I lie. “When we first met.”  
Gerard considers this. My stomach twists with anxiety until he finally answers, “Oh.”  
“Do… do you want to come inside? Meet my brother, maybe?” Gerard offers.  
I beam, standing up and grabbing his hand. “Sure!”  
Gerard blushes and bashfully pulls his hand away, leading me into the house. He goes up the stairs with quick, little steps, and knocks on his brother’s door.  
“Mikey! I want you to meet somebody!”  
“Omg no way, who is it, John Wayne Gacy?” Mikey responds sarcastically.  
Gerard makes a face. “No! We’re coming in.”  
Gerard swings open the door and grabs me by the shirt, pulling me into the room. “Mikey, this is Frank.  
His brother is lounging on his bed, reading a comic book with Fall Out Boy playing. He grins at me, and asks,   
“How are you, man?”  
“I’m- I’m good. And you?” I reply.  
“Fine,” Mikey responds. He looks up at Gerard and, batting his lashes, jokes, “Oh Juliet, he’s perfect! I don’t care if he’s a Montague, you have my full approval!”  
Gerard chuckles and then grabs a nearby soccer ball, chucking it at his younger brother and then leaving.   
“Mikey’s going through an asshole stage,” Gerard explains.  
I shrug. “I dunno. I thought he was funny.”  
“Well, you’re the only one,” Gerard scoffs. He enters his room, which has already absorbed Gerard’s scent, a sweet kind of musk. He plops himself down on his bed. I decide to ask the question I’ve been dying to know more about.   
“Hey, Gerard? Are you an artist?” I question. I look over at a nearby painting with moderate interest to pretend that the picture gave me the impression that he paints, and not that I rooted through all of his belongings aggressivley.   
“Um, I guess you could say that,” Gerard answers. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I want to be one when I grow up, actually. What about you?”  
I’m never growing up. “Uh…. I wanted to be a musician.”  
“Oh yeah, that’s another job I’d love,” Gerard says, sitting up. “So, what do you want to be now?”  
“Nothing at all,” I mumble.   
Gerard furrows his brows at me. He looks me up and down warily, and then responds, “Frank, I know you’re worried about me and all, and you have a right to be but…” he stands up assertively. “I think that before you go poking your nose around through my shit, you should take a look at yourself, alright?”  
“O-okay,” I respond, tears welling up in my eyes.  
Gerard’s hard expression softens. Oh, he can see he made me cry.   
“Frank… I… I didn’t mean it like that,” he tells.  
“W-well that’s ho-how it came out,” I gasp, sobbing.   
“Hey, come here,” Gerard says, as he wraps me in a hug. He pats me on the back and breaks the hug after about ten seconds, keeping his hands on my shoulders as he asks, “Now, are you alright, Frankie?”  
I nod, still sniffling. “G-Gerard?”   
“What is it?” Gerard asks, still giving me that steady look.   
“I- I love you,” I confide.  
Gerard blinks. “Oh.”  
“Oh, what?” I ask.   
“That’s…” Gerard pushes away from me, and paces about his room, tangling his fingers in his jet black hair. “That’s….”  
“I get it,” I grumble, beginning to disappear.  
Gerard turns around and beams, “That’s fantastic!”  
I appear, and reply, “Really?”  
Gerard nods, his head bobbing making his hair swish. “Really!” He grins and then picks me off of the ground in a hug, twirling me around in the air. He laughs, and I giggle along with him. He stops, planting a big kiss on my cheek and lowering me onto the ground.   
I hear the door from the living room open.   
“Hey, that must be my mom,” Gerard deducts. He smiles and asks, “Wanna tell her the good news?”  
“I- I gotta go. See you tomorrow?” I cover.   
“Um, yeah,” Gerard answers, looking a little hurt at my abrupt dismissal. I kiss his neck softly before I go, just to assure that I do, in fact, love him. But… I can’t meet his parents. I never should have met Gerard in the first place. I’m… I’m a ghost. I shouldn’t be interacting with people! This never should have happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter should be up soon! Please comment!


	4. Chapter 4

The next day; I want to just avoid Gerard forever. While I could; the boy’s going through enough shit. He doesn’t need his brand spanking new boyfriend to disappear on top of all of that.   
I have to wait forever for him to take a step outside. The kid’s like a vampire. Even worse, it’s a Saturday, so I can’t just wait for him to be walking back from school like I want to.   
Finally, aorund 7:00 at night he goes outside to throw out the trash. I appear in front of the bins, greeting,  
“Hey.”  
Gerard drops the bag to the gorund and responds, “Hi.”  
“Look,” I begin. “This whole boyfriend situation… it’s gonna be complicated.”  
“Great,” Gerard scoffs. He storms away, heading for his front door.  
“Hey!” I call, chasing after him. I grab his forearm and turn him to face me, asking, “What’s wrong?”  
Gerard’s hazel eyes start to well with tears as he replies, “We haven’t even been dating for a day, and laready you want to leave me.”  
“No!” I respond. “Oh, honey, you so don’t understand, at all. I chew my lip and then suggest, “Let’s go up to your room and talk.”  
Gerard hesitantly mumbles, “Follow me.” He goes into his house, taking the steps two at a time and sitting down on his bed. I sit down next to him, shutting his door as I make my way across the room.   
“So, why does this have to be complicated?” Gerard questions.  
“I… I wanna date you,” I assure. “It’s just…. I’m not a normal boy, Gerard.”  
Gerard turns away, muttering, “Whatever.”  
“Hey, listen to me,” I order. I take Gerard’s hand in both of mine, cradling it delicately. I give it a soft kiss in the center, and I murmur into his skin, “I think you’re amazing Gerard. I really do. I… I love you.”   
Gerard chuckles lightly and quotes, “‘Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.’ Shakespeare.”   
“Romeo and Juliet, Act 1,” I add. Gerard looks surprised and I explain, “That was my favorite play… or story, really. Ever.”   
Gerard nods, grinning. “You’re pretty smart, Frank.”  
“Thanks,” I reply.  
Gerard places a hand on my thigh, and whispers, “I can see what you mean by ‘not a normal boy.’”  
I chuckle nervously and squrim from under his grasp. Gerard knits his brows and asks,  
“What’s wrong?”  
“N-nothing!” I insist. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just… I’m a little reserved.”  
“Like… shy or…” Gerard drops his voice. “Sexually inhibited?”  
“Both.”  
“Oh,” Gerard replies. He then slides onto my lap, swinging his arms around my neck and purring, “Let me change that.”  
I’m about to reject, but Gerard sticks his tongue into my mouth. And I acutally enjoy it. My body stops protesting and begins to engage itself, my fingers twining through Gerard’s inky hair and another rubbing the small of his back. I feel myself get hard, and Gerard surely feels it, as he looks down and grins. “Someone’s up.”  
My face is scarlet. Gerard assures, “It’s fine. Do you… c-can I touch you, Frank?” Now it’s his turn to blush.  
“Yeah,” I answer, nodding vigorously. Gerard is such a good guy.   
Gerard unzips my pants, smiling and winking at me as he pulls my grey briefs down and out of the way, my errection springing out on it’s own. He takes the base of it and works his thumb into the foreskin in small circles, rubbing harder and harder until the spot feels like its about to go raw. He then moves his hand up and down the length, tickling his fingertips across the skin. I gasp as he squeezes it, and then screw my eyes shut, feeling my hips instinctively buck forward into him as he gives it another small squeeze.   
I grab onto Gerard’s shirt, warning, “Gerard… I… something’s not right.”  
“It’s okay,” Gerard comforts. He drags his thumb against the head, and the strange feeling in my groin only exacerbates.   
“Gerard I…. I feel funny,” I complain. I grind my hips, trying to get it to go away. “I’ve never felt this before!”  
“You’re fine,” Gerard promises. “I’m going to show you something amazing.”  
He ducks his head down and takes my penis into his mouth, massaging the tip with his tongue.   
“Gerard…. I… oh!” I cry out as my hips jump forward, and out comes something that feels like pee but… the consistency isn’t right. Oh, crap, I just released some bodily fluid into Gerard’s mouth!  
Gerard swallows and wipes his mouth, shoving my still hard penis into my underwear and redoing my pants. He then cuddles up against me, wrapping his arms around me into a squished hug.  
“Um… Gerard?” I ask. I gulp. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”  
Gerard smirks and recoils a bit in disbelief. “You’ve… you’ve never came before?”  
“Came?” I repeat. “Of course I’ve gone places.”  
Gerard doubles over with laughter.  
“What’s so damn funny?” I snap.  
Gerard chuckles, wiping his eyes, which are literally tearing up from him guffawing so hard. “Oh, Frankie, you trying to be tough. Oh… you’re so naieve, sweetie.”  
“What? Why am I naieve?” I question.  
Gerard finally stops laughing and explains, “That last thing you did? That was you coming.”  
“That… that weird feeling in my groin?” I ask.   
Gerard nods. “That’s what happens when you’re really sexually stimulated.”  
“So… it’s a good thing,” I guess.  
“Well…. Yeah,” Gerard agrees. “Haven’t you ever taken a sex ed class?”  
“S-sex ed?” I ask. “Is that an adults only course?”  
“No. We watched a video in like, fifth grade explaining it all,” Gerard informs.  
“Oh,” I reply dumbly.  
“How could you have never seen it?” Gerard wonders.  
“Well, I don’t really go to school,” I respond.  
“What do you mean?” Gerard asks.  
“Ummm….” I trail off. Oh no, what am I supposed to tell him?   
“Are you homeschooled?” Gerard guesses.  
“Yes! Homeschooled, that’s it!” I lie. “Yeah my mom, she’s a teacher that was able to quit so she just teaches me. Says it saves money.”  
Gerard nods. “That makes sense.” He pauses, then grabs my shoulder and advises, “Don’t tell your mom what you learnt today, alright?”  
I do the “zip it, lock it, keep it in my pocket” signal, and Gerard giggles and pecks me on the cheek.  
“You’re adorable,” he gushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for reading! Please comment, let me know what you think!
> 
> Follow my fanfiction blog! - www.frerard-is-the-weapon.tumblr.com
> 
> I'm always happy to accept prompts or asks!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, watch me on youtube! http://www.youtube.com/user/wildguitarappeared


	5. Chapter 5

I go to see Gerard the next day after he gets home from school. He invites me in, and we go into his bed room, and I’m pretty sure it’s to do some similar stuff to what we did yesterday. When… when I came… it felt amazing. I can’t believe that in my sixty six years, I’ve never experienced it before.   
Gerard lays down on his bed, pulling me on top of him. He whispers into my ear, his breath heavy, “Frankie… I want to have sex.”  
“How… how do guys have sex?” I question.  
Gerard looks uncomfortable, and he then replies, “Erm… one of us, a penis would have to go into an anus. How do you not know this?”  
I cringe. “Doesn’t that hurt!?”  
Gerard chuckles and suggests, “Why don’t I be bottom, then? You can give it to me if you’re so concerned.”  
He slides me off of him and rolls over to the edge of his bed, reaching and pulling out of of his bedside nightstand drawers. He pulls out, a little plastic square, and tosses it to me, offering, “Here.”  
On the front, I can see that it has a ring inside of the square. The wrapper reads “Ribbed for her pleasure. Size small.”  
“I hope it fits,” Gerard mumbles, blushing slightly. “I’m not exactly the biggest kid in town.”  
“Is…. Is this….” I toss it to the side, excaliming, “It’s a condom!”  
Gerard slaps a hand over my mouth, and listens to hear if anyone reacts. He removes his hand and says, “Yeah, so? Do you want to risk getting STDs?”  
“Wh-what are STDs?” I question.  
Gerard sighs and buries his head in his hands. He then looks up at me and chortles, telling, “You’re really behind the times, aren’t you Frankie?”  
“Huh?”  
“If you want, I’ll walk you through it as you go,” Gerard suggests. “It’d work fine.”  
“Oh-okay,” I agree.  
Gerard grins and raises one eyebrow, purring, “First we get naked.”  
Our clothes end up in a pile on the floor. Gerard props up pillows under himself, raising his hips into the air. “Now get behind me, and put on the condom.”  
I open it with difficulty, and roll it on. God, it feels weird.   
“Now, I’ve had my fair share of dick,” Gerard informs. “And by the size of you, I’d say it won’t hurt, so you don’t need to prepare me.”  
“Um, okay?” I respond.  
“Okay, now line up behind me,” Gerard instructs. He extends his arms back, fidning my hips and pushing me closer to his ass, lining my hips up with his.   
“Now just… push in,” Gerard orders.  
It takes me a few moments to actually realize where Gerard’s asshole is, but I find it. I slowly enter, feeling the ring of muscle stretch and Gerard’s warmth wrapped around myself snugly.   
“Holy shit,” I breathe. I rotate my hips, pulling in and out a bit. I fall into a pretty good rhtyhm, and it feels incredible for me. I can tell Gerard likes it too, because he’s moaning and biting into the pillow and crying my name.   
I feel close to coming again, and I do, gasping. My hips stutter, fucking up my pattern, but as soon as my orgasm’s over, I swing back into it wholeheartedly. I feel a something at the head of my penis, and I realize that it must be Gerard’s prostate. I bump the same spot over and over, and Gerard begins to quiver beneath me as he warns,  
“Frank, I’m going to come.”  
With that, he lets out a low growl, almost like a purr, as he comes all over his bed sheets.   
Once a neccesary change of sheets occurs, we’re snuggling in his bed, nude. Gerard glances down at our clothes on the floor, and asks,   
“Hey, Frank?”   
I turn over. “Yeah?”   
Gerard peers over at me and questions, “Why do you always wear the same thing?”  
Shit! I’ve been wearing the same thing the entire time I’ve known him?! How could I have been such an idiot! I suppose… I… I would wear my own clothes, but they were all cleaned out of this house long ago. I have no other choice but to steal money from someone, go to some shitty thrift store and buy clothes… but no, this is a small town. What if someone recognizes me as the Iero’s boy? They’d be confused, seeing as I should be over sixty years old by now. I could just walk through the door of a thrift store after dark. That’s right, I can walk through shit when I want to. It takes up a lot of energy, but it’s something I’ll only have to do twice.   
“Frank? I’m sorry,” Gerard apologizes. “I know that you may not have any other choice.”  
“It’s okay,” I reply. “Acutally, I wear that so much because it’s my favorite outfit.”  
“Oh,” Gerard replies. “Well, you wore it two days in a row.”  
I turn over to look Gerard in the eye, and tell flatly, “I really fucking like it.”  
Gerard guffaws and hugs me, planting a kiss on my cheek. “You’re so fucking cute.” He looks over at the clock, and chirps, “Ooh, my parents will be home soon. Want to meet them?”  
“I… I can’t…” I mumble.  
Gerard sits up. “What? Why?”  
“I just… I have my reasons,” I answer.  
“Like what?” Gerard presses.  
I turn away from him, swinging my arms over the edge of the bed. “I don’t know! I just… I really should get going, actually.”  
I walk around the bed and bend down to grab my underwear, when Gerard grips my forearm, saying, “I’m sorry if I upset you. I don’t care if you’re poor; I’m sure your family’s nice. You don’t have to feel bad.”  
“That’s not it at all,” I mutter, pulling on my black briefs.   
I can tell Gerard’s getting a little frustrated with me, and I can’t blame him; whenever he tries to take our relationship to the next level, I back out with some really lame excuse. “Why do you always wear briefs? What are you, eight?”   
I know he’s trying to make fun of me. I want to respond, “Because I’m from the fucking sixties, and everyone wore them! Why do you always wear those baggy, loose underwear?”   
“They’re comfy,” I reply. “Why do you always wear baggy ones?”  
Gerard snorts, “They’re called boxers, Frank.”  
“Whatever,” I scowl. I pull on my shirt, throwing my blazer over my arm, slamming the door as I leave. I immediatley put the blazer on and become invisible, just slipping back into Gerard’s room through the door.   
I see him sitting on his bed, now out from under the covers. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “That was mean. I’m such a dick.”  
I want to appear and tell him that’s not true, but um, I can’t, because I just had a dramatic storm out. Even if I pretended to come back in through his door, it would seem like I was eavesdropping. So I just have to sit there as Gerard verbally abuses himself.   
Gerard reaches over, grabbing his boxers with the skulls on them and pulling them on. He then lays back in his bed, and grumbles, “Frank probably won’t be coming back. And I don’t know where he lives. Good one, Gerard.”  
I want to hug him, so I do. Gerard immediatley shivers, and goosebumps rise off of his pale skin. I just hug him tighter, and whisper,  
“It’s okay. I forgive you.”  
Gerard suddenly looks really spooked out, and his eyes dart nervously around the room. Maybe… did he hear me? He pulls on his shirt and stumbles into his pants, hurrying out of his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update, been busy!   
> Please comment!
> 
> Follow my fanfiction blog- www.frerard-is-the-weapon.tumblr.com  
> Follow my regular tumblr- www.haruka-loves-rin.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

I decide that instead of going to a thrift shop, I might as well go to some more expensive place and find expensive clothes, just so Gerard doesn’t think I’m poor anymore. I creep out of Gerard’s house, even though I don’t have to be sneaky, more just for the fun of it. I even sweep right past him, and I see him shiver frrom my icy coldness. It’s night out; I figured I better do this when it’s closed so that there isn’t random floating clothes everywhere as I try to put them on.   
I walk through the wall of a random shop, grunting with effort. Once I’m in, I head over to the boys department, figuring that I’m probably small enough to still fit into it. When I was alive, I was a large child’s. I head into the boys’ department, and put on my size of jeans (a gentleman never tells), but they can’t go past my hips. I figure it must just be that brand, so I grab a different pair of the same size, but those, as well, only go up mid thigh. What the Hell? They’re like three sizes smaller. Dejectedly, I pull off my pants and head to the mens department in my briefs.   
Oh my God do I see some shit. There’s something called Ed Hardy, and it basically looks like a cheap 25 cent temporary tattoo machine threw up all over it. There’s also a shirt that reads “Black Veil Brides” on the front. I don’t know what it is, but I guess the girl on the front is kind of pretty.   
I find my size of jeans by grabbing the smallest size, but even then, they’re so long that I have to roll up the cuffs just so they don’t drag at my heels. Sidebar- the jeans were at first pretty confusing. There’s straight, slim, boot cut, skinny, and super skinny. Since I’m small, I grab skinny jeans. They kinda squish my balls, but they make my butt look good in the mirror so I figure why not. I find my shirt size by doing the same. I select one outfit, also stealing from the shoes department. I grab a pair of blue Vans, dark skinny jeans, a grey button down, a black sweater with a blue tie. Quickly finding another outfit, I select a black blazer with a red button down, red Converses, and yet another pair of skinnies. I find that I’m starting to get my own style. I also find this camouflage jacket that I really like, which I pair with a solid black t shirt with the collar in the shape of a v. And yes, again with the skinny jeans. On the last one, I decide to try the slim jeans, since I am slim, and those fit more comfortably than the skinny jeans, while I don’t like the way they look quite as much. I pair them with a green plaid shirt, a black puffer vest and green Converses.   
I’m on my way out with the clothes (that I shoved under my shirt so they wouldn’t just be floating in my hands, in case someone does see me), when I see the underwear department. Deciding to prove Gerard wrong, I look through it and select a package of bounderwear department. Deciding to prove Gerard wrong, I look through it and select a package of boxers. I try them on, but don’t really like how loose they are, or how my junk sorta moves around in them. I decide I’ll wear briefs beneath them, just so Gerard thinks I’m capable of wearing them like a normal kid from his era would. I try on boxer briefs out of curiosity, and OH MY GOD THEY’RE AMAZING. They don’t reveal as much leg as briefs do, but they’re just as comfortable. I grab a package of boxers (One’s blue and plaid, another’s solid red, and the last pair is blue camoflague). I also grab a package of boxer briefs, (a grey striped pair, a solid navy pair, and a black pair). There’s these really cool looking ones that only come in individuals, and I take like seven pairs. They have American Eagle written on the waistband. I get a pink pair, a bright green/yellowy pair, a light blue pair, and a green pair. I also get a orange pair covered with Eagles.  
As I walk home, I realize that I got a lot of fucking underwear. I guess I did need quite a few, what with my current ones getting all old and growing holes and Gerard making fun of my current selection.   
I change into my new clothes in Gerard’s room, dressing myself in the light blue pair of American Eagles and my outfit with the tie. I’ll wear that when I meet with Gerard tomorrow, show him that I’m not poor. When I was actually alive, my family was moderately wealthy.   
The next day, I see Gerard. I meet him on his way home from school, and God does he look happy to see me.  
“Frank!” he greets. He looks me up and down, blushes, and compliments, “You look really nice.”  
I blush myself, and I’m dead. I reply, “Thanks, that’s really sweet.”  
“Do you want to come in?” Gerard offers. “We can go up to my room and um-”  
“Actually, no,” I respond.  
Gerard looks hurt. His eyebrows furrow, and his forehead creases as his hazel eyes are augmented with his hurt puppy look. He shifts his footing, crossing his arms self-conciously. He stammers, “N-no?”  
“I want to come in,” I explain. “But not for sex. Today… I want to…” Gerard’s head is hung, so I lift his head to meet his eyes.  
“I want to meet your parents,” I finish.  
Gerard’s eyes swell with joy as he breaks away from me, only to hug me. He kisses me on the cheek, and pumps a fist in the air, shouting, “Yes!”   
“Hey, fag!” I hear a voice yell.  
Gerard and I both turn, to see some boys on the other side of the street glowering at Gerard. Gerard begins to visibly sweat, as he tucks a hand behind his arm, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “H-hey guys. Wh-wh-what’s up?”  
“W-w-w-w-w-w,” the boys all imitate. They begin to cross the street, when Gerard takes my arm, declaring, “Let’s go, Frank.”  
We begin to walk, so the boys approaching start to run. Gerard peeks back, yelps, and begins to sprint, as I go along with him. Once we’re in his house, the boys bolt up his porch, banging on the door. One of them actually tries to open it, and Gerard and I have to throw all of our weight against it in order for him to lock it.   
“Freak!” one of them shouts, and then they all depart.   
Gerard stands on his tippy toes to look out the window on the door, and then pants, “I think it’s safe.”  
“Gerard?” I question. “Who the Hell were those guys?”  
“Just… just some classmates, fucking around,” Gerard mumbles.  
“Are… are you being bullied?” I ask.  
Gerard shrugs, and his eyes well up with tears. He starts up the steps, calling over his shoulder, “I don’t want to talk about it. I think it’s best you go.”  
I clomber up the steps after him, stopping him in his doorway. I press him against the door frame, running a hand through his hair.   
“Hey. It’s alright,” I comfort. I press my lips against his, and he allows me to push my tongue into the back of his throat. I trail a hand up his side, lifting his shirt up to his ribcage. I move the other down the back of his pants, just exploring his body.  
“EW!” someone yells.  
Gerard suddenly shoves me away, his face beet red. “M-Mikey! You weren’t supposed to be home!”  
The bedheaded Mikey stands in his own doorway across the hall, his mouth twisted into a disgusted sneer. “I’m home sick. I didn’t know you and Frank were… I didn’t even know you were…”  
“I’m gay, okay?!” Gerard demands. “And if you can’t deal with that, too bad.”  
“That’s fine,” Mikey replies quietly. He grabs Gerard by the shoulders and rams him against the wall, shouting, “JUST DO THAT IN PRIVATE NEXT TIME.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please comment, and check out my other fics!
> 
> Follow my fanfiction blog!- www.frerard-is-the-weapon.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

            Since the last time I was going to meet Gerard’s parents was so rudely interuppted, the next day I decide to meet them for real. But they aren’t home for a while after school, so Gerard takes my hand, dragging me up to his bedroom.

            He makes sure he locks the door, doubling checking so not as to put Mikey through any more tramua. I lay back on the bed, throwing off my blazer, and unbuttoning my shirt. Gerard pulls his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. His sternum pokes out from the middle of his chest, and he’s just bony and hard all around as he hugs me, kissing my collar bone. He then unbuttons my pants for me, sliding them off to reveal my plaid boxers.

            Gerard grins and asks, “What, no briefs?”    

            “No briefs,” I answer. I’m not even wearing boxer briefs beneath the boxers; I’ve gotten used to the feeling of them.  

            Gerard pouts, “I actually thought they were cute. Kind of sweet and innocent, you know?”

            Gerard runs a cool hand up the leg of my boxers, caressing my thigh. He ascends further, squeezing the head of my cock lightly. “I can certainly get used to these, though.”

            I smile back, Gerard’s lashes full and his voice sultry. He undoes his own pants, slithering out of the tight denim, leaving him in his purple boxer briefs with the white waistband and racing stripes. He takes off those as well, letting them fall to the floor.

            He removes my boxers slowly, dragging his fingertips lightly down the length of my legs. He grins at me before pouncing on me, sucking on my neck loudly.

            I gasp in shock, and then find myself getting hard. I’m embarrased at first, but then I feel that he’s getting hard to. Gerard begins to grind his hips down into mine, so I push back. He brings an arm under my back and pulls me into a sitting position, straddling my thighs.

            He licks my earlobe and bites softly on the skin, giving it a slight tug. He trails his tongue down my neck, against my chest, past my hip. He gets down onto his knees, off to the side of the bed, his stomach pressed against it, and finally, he’s face to face with my crotch. He grabs just below the head, and puts just the tip into his mouth, teasing the top of it with his tongue and grazing his teeth against the sides.

            I whisper, “Fuck.”

            Gerard smirks and takes in more of me, massaging it by swirling his tongue around and making a sucking motion with his cheeks, hollowing and filling them repeatedly. He reaches a hand up, blindly groping around my chest until he finds my nipple. Upon discovering it, he gives it a small pinch, and rubs the bottom with his thumb. I let out a little moan, and as Gerard deep throats me, my hips buck forward in little jitters.

            Gerard draws a hand down his own stomach, wrapping his fingers around himself lightly. He jerks himself off, somehow keeping up the quality of his performance on me. I come as he deep throats me one more time, whimpering his name as my nails dig into the back of his shoulders.

            Gerard works me through it, forgetting about his own dick, which must be painfully hard and negelected. Once he swallows and releases my cock, I push him back a little, sliding down the bed and onto the floor, so I’m kneeling across from him.

            I lock eyes with him as I grasp his cock, giving the tip a stroke. Gerard shivers, and mutters,

            “Fuck, Frankie. Why are you always freezing?”

            I slide my hand lower onto his cock, and begin thrusting it slowly. “I dunno. Why are you so hard?”

            Gerard lets out a hoarse chuckle, and God, is it hot.

            Curiously, I bring his dick to my mouth, engulfing him. As I blow him, I reach a hand around to grab his ass, squeezing the rather flat surface. I run my hand up and down his ass, using my fingernails lightly. I feel goosebumps rise off of the skin, and Gerard again shivers. I bring my teeth onto his penis gently, sliding them up and down the length softly.

            Gerard grunts, and threads his fingers into my hair. He holds on as if it were for dear life, and tells,

            “Frank…. I’m going to cum.”

            I debate whether to actually take his cum in my mouth, but I suppose it’d be rather rude to stop right before his orgasm. So I keep going, and soon, Gerard comes, growling obscenities.

            I try to swallow, but it tastes too awful, so I spit it out, keeping my hand around Gerard’s cock and rubbing it as I do so.

            Gerard and I are both coated in sweat and panting when we hear the front door open. Gerard smiles, informing,

            “Parents are home.”

            He gets to his feet, dressing quickly, and tossing me my clothes as he does so.

            We go down the stairs, Gerard leading the way. He takes my hand, whispering, “My parents are in the kitchen.”

            He takes me into the kitchen, dropping my hand. His parents are sitting at the table, I’m sure doing some important adult things like taxes or job applications or some shit. They look up when Gerard clears his throat, and both smile at me.

            “Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend, Frank,” Gerard informs.

            My heart skips a beat. He didn’t tell me he was going to introudce me as that, did he?! What if they don’t approve? What if they yell at me? Or even worse, what if they yell at him? Oh God, please be okay with it.

            His parents just hold their grins.

            His mother stands and pulls me into an unexpected hug, saying, “Nice to meet you, Frank.”

            “Um, thanks,” I mumble. She breaks the hug and returns to her seat. His father stands as well, and I’m ready for another hug when he merely sticks his hand out. I gratefully accept it, making sure to give it a firm shake.

            “Frank…. What’s your last name?” his dad asks.

            My stomach feels like it’s inverting on itself, collapsing upon it’s foundation. What do I tell him? Gerard is looking at me, his head cocked and his hazel eyes filled with integrity. He really doesn’t know I’m dead. Unable to decide what to do, I just blurt out, “Iero.”

            “Frank Iero,” his dad mutters. “Something about that name sounds familiar.”

            “It’s… it’s a pretty common name in Jersey,” I lie.

            His father nods. “That makes sense.”

            I go up to Gerard’s room with him. He elbows me, baby talking,

            “Now was that so bad? I don’t know what you were so scared for.”

            “Me neither,” I fib.

            Gerard chortles, realizing, “You know, I didn’t know your last name when I had sex with you. Isn’t that weird?”

            I giggle myself, responding, “To some people, I bet.”

            Gerard kisses me on the cheek, purring, “Let’s hope you’re not some people.”

            I kiss him back, but on the lips, assuring, “Baby, I’m not even people.”

            Gerard just laughs and kisses me again, not even understanding the verbal irony, or the gravity of our situation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please comment! New chapter will be up soon! 
> 
> Follow my fanfiction blog- www.frerard-is-the-weapon.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

            I meet up with Gerard the next afternoon. We go up to his rooma nd watch the Lion King on his lap top, snuggling close together underneath the covers.

            Gerard is acting weird though. I keep catching him stealing glances over at me, and he continually bites his lip.

            Gerard gets all teary-eyed when Simba lays with his dead father, which is pretty sweet of him. He wipes his eyes, trying to disguise his crying by suggesting,

            “Do you want something to drink?”

            I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”

            “You look thirsty,” Gerard isnists, leaving the room. He retruns with two glasses, handing me one.

            I have the water finished by the end of the movie. It tasted sort of strange, but I figure that something’s probably going on with the tap water, that’s all.

            Gerard keeps checking the clock, and then peeking over at me. I wonder what’s up with him.      

            As we’re watching the ending credits, I ask,

            “Can we do some of that stuff you’ve shown me?”

            Gerard grins and nods. “Yeah, we ca do that.”

            I begin unbuttoning my shirt when Gerard places a hand over mine, stopping me. He leans in close and whispers,

            “Actually,  I want to try some bondage.”

            “What’s bondage?” I ask.

            Gerard strips me to my pink Amercian Eagles and lies me down on the bed. He makes me spread my legs nad hold my arms up above my head. He ties my wrist to the bed posts at the headboard and then my ankles to the posts at the foot of the bed. He brings a long rope over my waist, crawling under the bed with it. He emerges from beneath and wraps it around once more before fastening it securely.

            Gerard straddles my torso, licking the center of my chest. He slithers out of his shirt, whipping it clear across the room.

            He suddenly stops, and smirks down at me. My stomach does an uneasy flip as he abrubptly rises, crossing the room and going to his dresser. I see him pull something out, and when he turns and starts back towards the bed and I realize that the thing he got out is a fucking box cutter, I immediatley recoil.

            “Wh-wh-what are you d-doing?” I stutter. I’m not sure why I’m so scared; I’m already dead. What’s he going to do, kill me again? But at the same time, I’ve never expereinced pain since I died, so it may hurt.

            “What am  _I_ doing?” Gerard repeats. He comes closer, standing next to me. He presses the blade against my chest and begins,

            “So, Frank. I thought that the name ‘Frank Iero’ sounded familiar, too.” Gerard apces around the room as he continues, “So, I type it into Google, along with this city’s name.” Gerard suddenly stops and pivots to face me. “Guess what I found?”

            I’m too scared to reply, so Gerard answers for me.

            “Oh, Frankie, it really is more fun for  me if you play along. Anyhoo, I saw a murder case. In 1964, a 14 year old boy named Frank Iero was murdered in this very house. Shot, by a gang. It’s unsolved.”

            “Weird,” I chuckle anxiously.

            “Yeah,” Gerard agrees. “Wanna know the weirdest part?”

            Gerard again presses the point of the box cutter to my skin, and I wince. He concludes softly, “The boy, Frank Iero? There was a photo of him included in the article. And he looked just… like… you.” With each of the last three words, Gerard taps the blade against my chest. He pushes it harder and demands, “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

            “I-I can e-explain, honest,” I stammer.

            “Then talk,” Gerard growls.

            “I will, if you get that box cutter away from me!” I retort.

            Gerard drops it, holding up his empty hands to show that it’s gone. “Go ahead, Frank. It’s gone.”

            “Now untie me,” I order.

            Gerard chortles, “No, I’m not going to do that. See, the thing is, I don’t know if you’re a doppleganger of a murderer or just some poor, mixed up little boy.” He grabs me by a lock of my hair and pulls my face close to his, hissing, “But I’m not willing to take any chances.”

            He releases me, and I sigh. “Fine. Do you want to know the truth?”

            I make myself disappear and then slip through the ropes, just like I do through the walls. Gerard jumps and grabs the boxcutter, so I snatch it from his hands and then appear on the other side of the room.

            Gerard is shaking now, but he shouts, “How did you do that?!”

            “Easy,” I respond. I toss the box cutter under his closet door, telling, “I’m dead.”

            Gerard blinks. “You’re… you’re dead?”

            I nod. “There’s a reason I look just like that boy. I _am_ him. Well, technically, I’m his ghost. But his soul, his looks, everything, that’s me.”

            “I… don’t believe you!” Gerard sputters.

            “Sure you do,” I reply. “I’ve seen you glance around your room all nervous, because you can feel me here with you. I’ve seen you react to my voice by bolting out. A boy who doesn’t believe in the paranomral wouldn’t react so extremely.”

            Gerard shivers, and asks, “Is that why it’s so fucking cold in here all the time? Cause you’re here?”

            “Well, yeah,” I answer. “I’m dead, cold as clay.”

            Gerard sits heavily on his bed, and then says in this real quiet voice, “So you got murdered?”

            I sit next to him, taking his hand. “Yeah, but it wasn’t all that bad. Didn’t really hurt. My parents were pretty bummed though.”

            “Your parents?” Gerard questions.

            “Yeah,” I breathe. My voice catches in my throat as I explain, “My mom she…. She held my body and was bawling. And they visisted… they visisted every now and then, and left flowers on the spot that I died every time.”

            Gerard is crying, and he wipes his eyes, sobbing, “Fuck, sorry. Emotional Gerard over here.”

            I hug him, kissing him on the cheek and tucking a strand of ebony hair behind one of his ears. “Nothing wrong with that.”

            He crawls into my lap, wrapping his arms around around my neck and resting his bare chest against mine. We stay there for a while, Gerard crying, and I just let him, because even though I haven’t been one for over fifty years, I know that sometimes, all humans need is a good cry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading! Please comment! New chapter will be up soon, in the meantime, check out my other fics!
> 
> Follow my fanfiction blog- www.frerard-is-the-weapon.tumblr.com


	9. Chapter 9

            I’m waiting for Gerard to get off the bus, standing on the sidewalk. As soon as he’s off, four of these kids are all over him, so much that I can’t even see him. I go over to help, wondering what the problem is. One of them shoves me away before I can tell, barking,

            “This is none of your business, midget!”

            I disappear and go through the boys, standing in the center of their circle around Gerard to see what’s going on. Two of the boys have Gerard’s arms pinned to his back, as he lays on the ground, squirming against them. He’s lying on his stomach, his shirt ridden up so that his blue Batman boxers are sticking out over the top of his jeans.

            Another one of the kids sits on Gerard’s head, pushing his chin into the cement. The boy grabs Gerard’s underwear, pulling them up until the waistband is halfway up his back.

            “Please stop!” Gerard whines, whimpering and thrashing as he tries to resist.

            Meanwhile, one of the boys captures it on video. “Got it!” he informs.

            The kids all laugh and stand, except for the one with his hands clenched around Gerard’s superheero undies.

            “Beg for me to stop!” the boy demands, yanking Gerard’s underwear harder.

            “Please stop it!” Gerard pleads.

            The boy stands, finally releasing Gerard’s underwear, allowing the elastic to snap harshly back onto Gerard.

            Once the boys are all gone, Gerard begins to cry. I appear, picking up his back off the ground and offering him my hand.

            Gerard doesn’t take my hand, just sniffles, “Were you watching the entire time?”

            I nod.

            Gerard chuckles, taking my hand and allowing me to help him to his feet. “Well, then why didn’t you help me?”

            “I didn’t know what they were doing to you,” I admit.

            Gerard smirks. “You don’t know what a wedgie is?”

            “Is that what that was?” I question.

            Gerard laughs, answering, “Yeah. It hurts like Hell.”

            “Sorry I didn’t do anything,” I apologize, hanging my head.

            Gerard pats me on the back, responding, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

            “Yeah, but you were begging for them to stop and,” I insist. “I should’ve taken the hint that youd didn’t like it.”

            Gerard takes my hand, embracing the coldness of mine against his warm palm.

            When we reach his house, a short walk from the bus stop, we run into Mikey on our way upstairs, who asks Gerard,

            “Have you been crying?”

            Gerard shakes his head. “No, it must be allergies.”

            Mikey nods as he passes. I ask Gerard,

            “You have allergies?”

            “Yeah, I’m allergic to cats,” Gerard explains. “It sucks; I love em, but I can’t even hold them without falling into a sneezing attack.”

            “That sucks,” I agree. “I can’t imagine what it’d be like if I was allergic to dogs.”

            Gerard grins. “You’re a dog person?”

            “For sure,” I reply. “I’ve never had one; my parents wouldn’t let me, but my best friend had this huge Great Dane.”

            There’s a moment of silence, and I question,

            “Gerard? Do you…. Do you have any friends? Besides me?”

            Gerard blushes, and stammers, “N-n-no, not really. Not h-here, anyways. I had f-f-friends at my old sc-school.”

            I grab his hand, because he looks like he’s about to cry again. He pushes my hand away, standing and beginning, “That reminds me. I have an idea.”

            I smile. “What’s that?”

            “Well, this is a strong ‘what if’, but….” Gerard pauses for effect before adding, “What if you went to school with me?”

            I sit, gaping, and not particularly in a good way.

            “No, just think about it,” Gerard insists. “We could hang out all day every day, I’d have a friend besides Mikey, maybe you could….” Gerard scuffs the floor with his shoe, asking, “Do you think you might be able to help me out with bullies?”

            “Well, we just saw how uselful I was in the wedgie situation,” I scoff.

            “I know but, maybe you could learn how to help me out,” Gerard pleads. “You’re a fucking ghost, Frank. Couldn’t you do something to scare them off?”

            “W-well, yeah, but….” I start.

            “See? You could,” Gerard interjects.

            “But see, the thing is that I don’t want them getting suspicious or anything,” I tell.

            Gerard stis next to me, responding, “Frank, if you scare them as well as I think you can, I’m pretty positive that they wouldn’t dare tell anyone about it.”

            “I….”

            Gerard gives me the biggest puppy eyes I’ve ever seen anyone pull, his hazels radiant and the size of saucers. “Please help me, Frankie. There’s four of them. I couldn’t even take on one of them.”

            I bite my lip, deciding, “Fine. I’ll help you.”

            “Yes!” Gerard cheers, hugging me. “I’m so excited! For school supplies, you can borrow some of my extra ones I have from middle school. Frank! This will be so fun! We should give you a new last name, though. Let’s look some up! You’re Italian, right? I’ll Google Italian last names-”

            “GERARD!” I interrupt. I smile at him, telling, “Sweetie, you’re rambling.”

            Gerard reddens. “Sorry! I’m just really excited.”

            I laugh, “I can tell.”

            Gerard squeals, tackling me in a hug. “This will be so fun!”

            “Gerard, but what if we aren’t in the same classes?” I realize

            Gerard flaps his hand. “Don’t worry. We can still hang out in the morning and on the bus and stuff like that!”

            The next morning, I appear to get ready in the morning with Gerard. He dresses himself in an Iron Maiden tee shirt and ripped jeans with combat boots, but I wear my red button down with the blazer and matching Converses.

            “What’s your last name again?” Gerard quizzes.  

            “Violante,” I recite.

            “Good,” Gerard praises. We head out onto the bus. At the bus stop, Gerard and I are standing, minding our own business. The four boys that gave Gerard the wedgie the other day show up, and one of them elbows his buddy, pointing at me.

            “Hey!” one calls. He has light brown hair chopped above his ears. “Are you a new kid?”

            I nod. “Yeah, I’m Frank.”

            “I think that’s the midget that tried to protect Captain Fag over here the other day!” one with black curls shares, giving Gerard a shove.

            “That… that wasn’t me,” I lie.

            “Why are you dressed like a twink?” a redhead demands. His friends laugh.

            I nudge Gerard, whispering, “What’s a twink?”

            Gerard blushes, explaining, “They call me one too, so I looked it up. It’s a young or young looking gay man with little to no body hair.”

            I go scarlet, I can feel it in my cheeks. I can already tell that today’s not going to be a good day. I really hope I don’t have P.E. with any of those kids, seeing as I have no chest hairs and hardly any armpit hair.

            We get on the bus, which is okay, except that those kids sit about two seats behind us and throw water bottles and shit at us the entire ride. Gerard and I get off at the school, and I take it all in. Even the girls are taller than me, and the school looks fucking huge.

            I turn on my heels, declaring, “I can’t do it!”

            Gerard grabs me by the belt and drags me inside, demanding, “You are doing this, Frank. Come on, it’ll be okay.”

            “I really don’t want to!” I cry, as he pulls me into the school. It’s going to be a long day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please comment, and check out my other fics! 
> 
> Send prompts here, anonymous or not! - www.frerard-is-the-weapon.tumblr.com/ask
> 
> Follow my fanfiction blog- www.frerard-is-the-weapon.tumblr.com  
> Follow my regular blog (MCR, Doctor Who, Supernatural)- www.haruka-loves-rin.tumblr.com


	10. Chapter 10

            Once we’re in the school, I immediatley feel like I’m a long way from home. The girls are wearing these skin tight black pants, and the boys black socks with sandals. I see a boy with his pants pulled halfway down his butt.

            I loosen my belt, asking Gerard, “Should my pants sag like that too?”

            Gerard tightens my belt, telling, “No honey, he’s a hoodrat. You don’t want to look like him.”

            “Oh,” I reply, even though that doesn’t make any sense to me.

            We go up to the third floor, which is a Hell of a climb for my little legs.

            Gerard leaves me in the hall, explaining, “I have to go to the bathroom, sweetie. Stay here, and I’ll be back in a second.”

            “Can I come with you?” I beg.

            “Sorry, I get stage fright,” Gerard informs. “But I’ll be right back, okay?”

            He leaves, and not a second after the kids from the bus stop are conrnering ome. One of them shoves my stomach against the wall, grabbing a fistfuol of my hair to keep me in place.

            He rewaches his hand down the back of my pants, tightening his grip around a hunk of my striped boxer briefs. He yanks them upwards, and I squeal out with discomfort.

            Jesus Christ, I understand why Gerard was begging for them to stop last time. My ass burns, and my balls cower into my stomach as my waistband is pulled up to my shoulderblades.

            “Hey, leave him alone! Let him go!” Gerard shouts. Both my hair and underwear are released, and the boys depart, one of them thumping Gerard on the chest.

            “Frankie, are you okay?” Gerard asks.

            I’m so embarrased that I feel like I might cry. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

            Gerard grins and pats me on the back, guiding me to our first class, which we are lucky to have together, seeing as P.E. is kind of Hell for nonathletic, smaller kids like us.

            “So how was your first wedgie?” he questions.

            I cringe, and Gerard laughs. “Those kids must really be into peoples’ butts,” I mutter.

            Gerard chuckles and nods, agreeing, “I suppose it could be interpreted in that way.”

            We’re unfortunate to have those kids from the bustop with us in P.E. Gerard told me that the leader’s name is Tyson. Anyways, Tyson was nice enough to pull my shorts down in front of some girls, who all giggled and began to whipser, surely about me, as I struggled to get my shorts back up.

            When Gerard and I are in the lockeroom, and he exits from the shower, looking goregous with a towel around his tiny hips and his hair dripping.

            “Who took my clothes?” he demands.

            Tyson shrugs, and all of his friends laugh. It’s pretty damn obvious that they did.

            Gerard steps towards Tyson, snarling, ‘Give me them.”

            “Back off, fag,” Tyson scoffs, placing his hand in between Gerard’s pecs and pushing him back.

            Gerard flips him off and begins to storm away. Tyson catches Gerard by the twoel, yanking it off and whipping Gerard on the upper thigh with it.

            Gerard squeaks, turning around and cupping his dick in his hands to cover himself. He’s snapped in the stomach, and then the chest.

            “Leave him alone!” I shout, jumping in between the two. “Tyson, stop fucking around. Where are his clothes?”

            Tyson throws Gerard’s towel in my face, which I hand to my boyfriend. “None of your business, midget.”

            “Actually, it’s Frank,” I growl.          

            “I’ll call you whatever I want, queer,” Tyson retorts. “By the way, nice outfit. You look like a hipster fag.”

            I don’t know what a hipster is, but by the snickering of the other boys, I’m guessing it’s not a good thing. “Sh-shut up! Just tell him where his clothes are; he’ll be late!”

            Gerard grabs my arm, insisting, “Frankie, it’s okay, I can just wear my P.E. clothes.”

            “Yeah, ‘Frankie’, listen to your boyfriend,” Tyson sneers.

            “No! It’s not okay; you’re a huge asshole!” I yell.

            “I did major in being a douche in college,” Tyson responds. “Why don’t you two little faggots go finger bang each other in the corner.”

            “Fuck you, Tyson,” I snarl.

            Tyson chuckles and then takes a swing at me. I manage to dodge it, but he tackles me, throwing me onto my back harshly. He grips my collar and lifts my face, each punch he delivers slamming my head back onto the floor.

            I knee him in the crotch, and he falls off, clutching his cock. I stand, kicking him in the ribs. I then kneel next to him, punching him in the stomach and jaw. I pull him into a headlock, demanding, “Where’s his clothes?”

            “In…. in locker 283, it’s unlocked!” Tyson cries. He’s bawling, tears rushing down his face. I don’t care though, I’m still fuming. I kick him once more before going to the locker, taking out Gerard’s boxers, shirt, jeans and Vans. I hand them to him, instructing,

            “Get dressed.”

            Gerard does so quickly, and we leave, him at my heel.

            “Frank… that was…. Amazing! Where’d you learn to fight like that?” Gerard gushes.

            “It was nothing,” I respond sheepishly. “My parents were super paranoid, taught me self defense and all in case I ever got in a tight situation.”

            “I don’t think those kids will be messing with us anymore,” Gerard tells.

            Someone knocks my books down, jeering,

            “Nice outfit! Justin Bieber wants it back!”

            “I should’ve warned you about wearing that,” Gerard sighs, bending down and scooping up my books. He hands them back to me, and I mumble a thanks.

            “So,” Gerard grins at me. “I guess this is where we go our separate ways.”

            “Til study hall,” I agree.

            Gerard hugs me tightly, not caring about all of the other kids in the hall staring at us like something’s wrong. “Take care of yourself, Frankie. Promise.”

            “I promise,” I swear. I smile at Gerard, who pats my shoulder before heading off in the opposite direction. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please comment, and check out my other fics! New chapter should be up soon, but I'm writing like four right now, so please be patient!
> 
> Anon or not prompts/questions can be sent here: www.frerard-is-the-weapon.tumblr.com/ask
> 
> Follow my fanfiction blog! - www.frerard-is-the-weapon.tumblr.com  
> Follow my regular blog - www.haruka-loves-rin.tumblr.com


	11. Chapter 11

            I go to my next class, which I am lucky enough to have it be Algebra 1. Fuck; I suck at math. The whole class I just zone, out, comforted by the fact that I’m not actually trying to pass here, just help Gerard. I suppose some kids would take the oppurtunity to act out and shit, but I’m not that kind of guy. Partially because I’m not a jerk, but mainly because I don’t want to get in trouble. Seriously, if I get yelled at, I cry. That would not be good on my reputation.

            At the end of class, the teacher calls me up. He’s this middle aged man who’s relatively handsome, but who’s showing the first signs of balding. He’s pretty dry and sarcastic, and for some reason, everyone in the class really likes him and even go far enough to call him ‘Big Daddy’.

            He has me stand in front of the room, introducing, “This is our new student, Frank Violante. I know he’s small…” He rests an elbow on my head, using his fist to prop his head up. The class laughs. “But give him a chance; he seems like an alright kid.”

            He turns to me. “Frank? Do you want to share a little about yourself with the class?”

            I’m shaking in my sneakers, but I nod, trying to remain calm. I never was good at talking in front of a lot of people. Especially peers. At least adults won’t slam you for stuttering or some shit like that, but kids are fucking brutal when it comes to it.

            “I came from…. From around this area….” I begin. Fuck, that sentence was riddled with ambiguity. No one must care about me, because my vagueness doesn’t raise any questions. I consider for a second mentioning that I’m friends with Gerard, but that’s no good, seeing as he is hated or at least looked down upon by over half of the student body. “I…. I like the Beatles and Leave It To Beaver.”

            I stand in front of the class, awkwardly. And that’s when it happens. I hear it as clear as a bell, I hear someone cough ‘fag’.

            A couple more kids join in; I spot a bitchy looking girl with blond hair, some boy with glasses, and an Asian boy doing it. More and more pitch in until the entire class is coughing ‘Fag!’ at me, so loud that the teacher, in a panic, runs over to the door to shut it. He steps to the front of the room, standing in front of me and protectively placing a hand on my shoulder.

            “HEY!” he roars. The class falls silent. I feel tears build up in my eyes, and I try my best to hold them back, but they fall. “Don’t think that I won’t give every single one of you an hour’s detention, because I will, and I am!”

            I bolt out of the room, and the teacher must really feel bad for me, because there’s still like six minutes of class left, but he lets me go anyways. I hear him spit, “You should all be ashamed of yourselves” as I hurry down the hallway, finding the closest bathroom I can, entering a stall, locking myself inside, and curling up on the toilet seat to cry.

            The next class is the one before lunch, so I decide to pull myself together enough to attend. I go out of the stall reluctantly, splashing some cold water on my face as I take deep breaths. As cheesy as it sounds, I know for a fact that smiling at yourself in the mirror when you feel like crap releases chemicals in your brain that make you feel better. So, I give myself a big smile before heading out to Spanish 1.

            It’s around the beginning of the year, so luckily for me, the kids are still learning simple sentences. I don’t really listen, but just follow along in the book, so when the teacher asks me,

            “Senor Violante, como te llamas?”

            I reply with, “Um… me llamas Frank.” The class snickers, and the teacher himself seems to stifle a laugh.

            “No, no Frank. It’s ‘Me _llamo_ Frank.’ Fuck, I pronounced literally everything wrong. ‘Me’ is supposed to be like ‘may’ (I said me), and here’s the biggest what the fuck ever. Llamas is actually said as ‘yamas’. I said it like the furry terrifying animal with a crucial role in a comedy classic we all love, Napoleon Dynamite.

            I’m so dying to get out of there when the bell rings. I’m at my locker, and from the corner of my eye, I see a group of kids all huddled up and pointing at me. Those little shits think they’re being inconspicous. I slam my books down, yelling,

            “I know you’re talking about me!”

            The kids stop, shocked, and watch me as I put the rest of my things away, scraping my books off of the ground as I storm off towards the cafeteria.

            I’m so dying to see Gerard when I get there. He’s already eating, but the food looks pretty gross, so he’s mainly just pushing it around with his spoon. He brightens when he sees me approach, but his smile falls when he sees how upset I am.

            “What’s wrong?” he asks.

            “Fucking, you know what?! Kids… suck!” I declare.

            Gerard smiles knowingly, pushing his tray to the side and taking my hands. “So it was _that_ kind of day, huh?”

            I nod, sharing, “Everyone in math called me a fag, and then in Spanish I looked like an idiot and….” I slam my head on the table, murmuring, “I have no fucking clue how you manage to do this everyday.”

            “Imagine doing it with the initiative to do well,” Gerard retorts, propping his chin up under his fist. He pokes me in the shoulder with his fork, comforting, “Hey, bud. The day’s halfway over. And, we spend the last half hour together.”

            He smiles at me as I look up at him. “You can do this, Frankie.”

            I really hope he’s right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please comment!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr- www.haruka-loves-rin.tumblr.com  
> 


	12. Chapter 12

            After lunch I go to biology, which is really fun, since the teacher is real energetic and Gerard has it with me. Gerard and I end up being partners for the lab. While she’s explaining it, Gerard is talking to me about this guy who alledgedly lived with a ten pound tumor on his face. The teacher frowns and I watch silently, not warning Gerard as she grabs her squirt bottle and squirts him with it.

            Gerard’s eyeliner starts to run as he laughs, wiping his eyes. Unfortunately, all of the other kids are snickering and whispering. Oh shit. Just what we need, these school kids finding an immature reason to single out my boyfriend.

            My next class is world geography, which actually isn’t all that bad. The teacher is funny, and pretty cute, too. We’re starting a new project, which was lucky for me, seeing as I don’t really have to get caught up. The project is on a crisis in America. I decide to pick womens’ rights. When the teacher passes by, he asks,

            “Are you a feminist, Frank?”

            I shrug. “What’s feminism?”

            The teacher, Mr. Blair, just laughs and shakes his head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

            I learn a lot of disturbing information. Believe it or not, companies and businesses can still pay women less for doing the same job as a man. Also, hardly any reported rape cases are even tried, and out of those, less than half of the rapists are jailed.

            Gerard meets up with me at my locker after school, rubbing my shoulders as he asks,

            “How was your day, sweetie?”

            “Great,” I reply. “Do you know that women are _still_ getting fucked over by the patriarchy? That the patriarchy is still oppressing them?! Gerard, it’s bad! It’s very bad!”

            Gerard nods. “Yeah. Your point?”

            “I just…. it happened when I was a kid but… I mean, I figured it would be over by now, ya know?” I ask.

            Gerard nods. “Yeah, it’s bullshit. Wait until you see the gay rights movement.”

            I squint and scrunch my nose with disgust. “Gays still haven’t gotten their rights?”

            “Nope,” Gerard answers blatantly. “As we speak now, another gay kid probably just offed themselves due to bullying. Not to mention, it isn’t legal in about half of the states in the U.S.”

            “What the fuck is going on?” I scoff.

            “Oh, and transexuals, asexuals, pansexuals, and sometimes even bisexuals are still being denied their own existence,” Gerard adds. “Just so you know.”

            “What’s a pansexual?” I question.

            “They don’t care about gender at all in a person, just personality,” Gerard explains.

            “That’s kinda neat,” I respond.

            Gerard chuckles. “God you’re cute.”

            I blush, mumbling, “Well, I try.”

            Gerard walks away, signaling for me to follow, which I do. “You don’t try. You just are.”

            We get onto the bus. This time, an older kid gets on. He looks like a senior. He sits behind Gerard and I. He’s being really vexing, kicking the seat, throwing shit and just being plain annoying. I decide to keep my cool until he taps Gerard on the shoulder and asks,

            “When was the last time you sucked a guy’s dick, faggot?”

            My head snaps back and I bark, “When was the last time your mom said she would be home late, fuckwit?”

            The boy stammers, “Sh-sh-shut up, midget. Don’t let that pitbull mouth overrun your puppy dog ass!”

            “I’ll overrun your ass!” I snarl.

            Gerard tugs on my sleeve, quietly pleading, “Frank. Come on, he’s not worth it.”

            “Listen to your boyfriend,” the kid jeers. “You know he’s the one taking it.”

            I look at Gerard, to see those fucking hazel eyes swelled up into his puppy dog defense mode. God fucking damn it.

            I lean back in my seat, taking deep breaths to try to calm myself down.

            “That’s right, tuck your tail between your legs and run, like the little doggie you are,” the boy laughs.

            Gerard frowns at him before turning and telling me, “Thank you.”

            On the walk home, I ask Gerard,

            “No one gave you a hard time about the whole eyeliner thing, right?”

            Gerard squishes his nose and squints. “Eyeliner thing?”

            “You know, when you were in science class and you got sprayed…” I trail off as I quickly add, “Quite a few kids were laughing…”

            “Oh yeah,” Gerard replies. He nods, sharing, “Yeah, an older kid called me a faggot but… that’s nothing new.”

            “You…. You get called that a lot?” I question.

            Gerard nods.

            “Does the school know you’re gay?” I ask.

            “Well, yeah, that’s really the only reason I got picked on in the first place,” Gerard answers.

            “What happened?”

            “I dated this guy… real sweetheart, his name was Jesse. Anyways, people found out faster than they did about Michael Jackson’s death,” Gerard explains. He tucks his hands into his pockets. “And, those kids that you stood up to earlier… those dicks from the bustop….”

            Thank God we’ve walked far enough past the bus stop so they can’t hear us.

            “They started bullying me like right away. Then everyone was afraid to be my friend, because they didn’t want to get picked on, too.”

            “So eventually, everyone was against me. And… and Mikes is my only friend… and he’s not even in high school.”

            Gerard starts to tear up, but he wipes it away with his fingers.

            “I’m your friend,” I assure, taking his hand and lacing my fingers with his.

            Gerars smirks. “Oh Frankie. You’re much more than a friend.”

            We go back to Gerard’s house and snuggle as we watch this one movie called Spirit. Gerard’s really pumped about it and claims that it’s the center of his childhood. It’s pretty decent; it’s about a horse that gets captured and falls in love and just is an all around badass.

            Gerard eventaully falls asleep. He looks so sweet and innocent, his eyes heavy, his hair a tangled mess, and his mouth open the slightest bit. I hook my hands around his waist and dig my head into his shoulder as I fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please comment, and check out my other fics!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr- www.varsity-frank.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the only chapter. Thanks a lot for reading, and please leave a comment!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr- www.these-ghouls-will-scare-me.tumblr.com  
> Follow me on Spotify- Jordan Ludwig


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